Behind

I´m deconstructing my life. Tiny little tidbits piled on tiny little tidbits until, in the end, all will have to fit into one single lime green suitcase. It´s a curious thing: seeing your life confined to little squares of commodity that can be packed away with ease or stored indefinitely somewhere where time and absence won’t harm it. Some things I have to close the book on. Some things won’t fit into squares and disagrees with being concealed in storage. All the while I feel nothing and I think even less. When I attempt to view the present tense from the outside I do sense I large sadness, but at the core, always, is he. And I know that I can make my home anywhere, as long as he is there with me, unpacking those boxes. 

Carly Comando – Everyday

Enough

The world is open, the world is wide -- yet I feel as if I´m walking on breaking glass, threading water endlessly, without getting anywhere but here. Where I don´t want to be. Minutes turn to hours, turn to days and weeks and months and what I do, is what I can -- I keep my head above water, I keep breathing -- in out, in out. I long for the days when there was life. When everything was colour and magic and enchantment and grandeur. When all sparkled and glittered and I was´nt sure where I was going, but I was moving so rapidly I passed you by as a blur, as an enigma, as a bolt of lightning or a shooting star. And now this: forever in limbo, forever standing still, forever needlessly trying, aiming, and forever not moving. I want it to stop now.

"Please stop now."

Martha Wainwright – Bloody Mother Fucking Asshole